


Homecoming Hassle

by PutOnTheSuit



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Self Insert, but you could also insert yourself lmao, cursing, michelle is the bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PutOnTheSuit/pseuds/PutOnTheSuit
Summary: In a scene in SM:H, Peter notices that Liz has a “new top”. Well, Belle is crushing on Peter just as acutely as Peter is crushing on Liz. Nevertheless, a very similar scenario occurs shortly after, with Belle and Michelle conversing instead of Peter and Ned.





	Homecoming Hassle

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably been done before lmao

“Did Liz get a new top?” Michelle’s ears perked up at Peter’s voice and she diverted a small part of her attention from her book towards the two dorks on the opposite end of the table. Belle was too engrossed in her sketchbook to say or notice anything.

“No, you’ve seen that before,” came Ned’s reply, “but never with that skirt.”

She side-eyed the two and rolled her eyes. Parker, as per usual, had a hand propping up his chin and Ned had his arms crossed.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy, though.”

“Too late,” she found herself saying, unphased by her three lunch tablemates whipping their heads towards her, “You guys are losers.” Turning back, she flipped the page and blew her bangs out of her face as the shortest one at the table stifled a laugh before going back to drawing.

“Then why do you sit with us?”

Michelle turned towards them, deadpanning, “Cus I don’t have any friends,” and turned back to her book again.

“Um excuse me, I’m here,” Belle pointed to herself, not looking up as she sketched some more lines onto the portrait she was working on.

“Except for you, you’re cool.”

She smiled in satisfaction and continued drawing out the details of her latest work. Looking over her shoulder, Michelle saw that it was—strikingly familiar, to say the least. A few more minutes have gone by and to her mild surprise (surprise meaning, “Oh, that’s a thing”), the drawing was of Peter. The left side of his face was already roughly shaded in, she was working on his lips.

_With startling emphasis and accuracy_ , she couldn’t help but note with a smirk. Belle thought that she was slick when checking short-stack over there out? Psht, no. Michelle noticed everything.

The shorter girl shifted a little, so she had to go back to reading, lest she be found snooping (do people even use the word lest anymore???). While Ned and Peter were discussing plans for homecoming, the Death Star they were gonna work on tonight or whatever, Belle had picked up her head to study his features a little more. Michelle figured that she already had a reference photo, but she probably a) didn’t wanna seem creepy holding a picture of him around and b) now had an excuse to stare at him without coming off as too creepy.

The drawing was from the shoulders up but the shirt hadn’t been drawn in yet, making it look like Peter’s neck and up were floating. Michelle cautiously peered over Belle’s shoulder again.

The girl in question huffed in frustration and sat back, slightly tossing her pencil onto the sketchbook and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Michelle leaned away from her a bit and propped herself up on her elbow.

“I can’t get his face right!” Belle threw her hands up in exasperation, only a little cautious of her volume. “No matter what I try to envision, this angle is just- ugh!”

She rolled her eyes (in the most endearing manner, of course) and shrugged. “Why not work on the shirt? You used to do designs for clothing when we were little, so maybe if you focus on another thing and finish it you can go back to go back to giving Parker goo-goo eyes.”

The pink that crept up her neck and settle on her cheeks and ears was almost comical.

“Michelle!” She whisper-yelled, “You aren’t supposed to say that aloud, someone might hear-”

“Yo, speaking of Parker, is that a new tee on him?” She nodded at the boy in question.

“No, he wore that a month ago or something. Looks good on him, I’d remember- hey, don’t change the subject!”

She cracked up and nudged Belle with her elbow, sitting up and laughing. “You’re fricken hopeless, kiddo.” After a few minutes of silence—with Belle stewing in the most childish way ever and sticking her tongue out at Michelle—Michelle nudged her again, stage whispering, “If he looks so good in that nerdy-ass shirt, then use that as a reference to draw.”

She opened her mouth to argue but was stopped short because there was nothing to refute. He  _did_  look good in that shirt and moving onto another component in the sketch would help her brain refresh itself and be able to draw the other side of his face. Belle huffed, mumbling, “Fine, you win this one,” and went back to drawing.

Michelle smirked in victory and turned back to her book. It wasn’t until she heard voices being raised that she was snapped out of her reverie.

“I’m telling you, you gotta tell Liz!”

“Ned, quiet down, the whole school doesn’t need to know, man!”

“Belle!”

She perked her head up at the sound of her name and raised a brow at the sudden inquisition.

“What?”

“Random question,” he paused as Peter gave him a death glare, “that doesn’t pertain to any subject that we coulda been talking about whatsoever.”

“Shoot.”

“True or false: when you have feelings for someone who’s a total knockout, single, nice, and has a crush on your alter ego—ow!” Ned rubbed his arm and gave Peter a look before continuing, “Disregard the last part, but anywho, when you have feelings for someone, shouldn’t you be honest and tell them your feelings?”

“Yees…?” She hesitantly replied after some thought. “I mean, if you care about them, you gotta show them honesty by taking the initiative and if it escalates into a good relationship, then it would be worth it-”

“Hypocrite,” Michelle muttered, turning the last page of her book and looking up at her with a bored expression.

Belle nudged her with an alarmed/shushing look and mouthed an almost imperceptible “shut up” before continuing.

“But yeah, honesty is important when talking to anyone, girl, guy, or otherwise. You always need to tell them as soon as possible if you’re thinking of a long-term relationship with them, cus it shows honesty and straightforwardness.”

“COUGHISMELLBULLSHITCOUGH,” Michelle hacked out, clearing her throat and smirking with a faux-apologetic look, “Sorry, I, uh, had something in my throat.”

Electing to ignore that, Ned turned towards Peter and whispered excitedly to him, “See?! You gotta ask her to homecoming, it’ll be great!”

She turned back around to see Belle starting a new page in her sketchbook, probably trying to get her mind off homecoming. The two were planning on going stag, both being the ghosts of the school and all. Michelle was just planning on going with her for moral support so that Belle wasn’t in the corner by herself, just observing everything play out.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the start of classes.

Michelle threw her food away along with Belle and exited the room to get to their classes, with Belle giving the boys a silent salute and a smile before jogging after Michelle.

“Michelle?”

She whipped her head around before having to look down at Belle. “Yeah, shortstack?”

The tiny girl looked around, probably checking to see if anyone was listening in (no one was), before saying, “Listen, I know we were talking about going stag and just hanging out at homecoming and whatnot, but,” she shrugged, opened her mouth to continue, but shook her head before she could think anything else, “eh, I dunno. It’s stupid.”

“It probably is, but say it anyway. It’s not like I judge or anything. I don’t care enough to.”

“How do I word this…” Michelle looked down at her with an expectant look as they walked closer to sixth period, “I really, I mean really wanna dance with—you know.”

“Actually, I don’t know, shortstack, you’re gonna have to elaborate.”

“Peter. I really wanna ask Peter to a dance during homecoming but he’s already going with Liz and he probably only sees me as a little sister because I’m only a freshman and he’s a fricken sophomore and would think nothing of it but then I’d feel like I’m taking advantage of that because I have a crush on him and that would be me being a bad friend or whatever and I don’t wanna steal him from Liz, assuming that I even  _have_  a chance, not to mention-”

Michelle stopped the two right before they entered the classroom, taking Belle by the shoulders and shaking her a bit for emphasis.  

“Okay, first of all, shortstack,” she looked deep into her eyes, “remember to breathe sometimes, okay? Secondly: yeah, that was a stupid question-slash-ramble but I don’t really care.”

She looked up at her and blew her bangs out of her eyes, clearly not impressed by that crappy pep talk.

“I’m not done yet. Everyone knows you’ve got the hots for our friend Parker over here except for Liz—she’s too nice to have said yes if she knew—Ned, and the man himself.” She paused for a bit to let what she said sink in before opening her mouth to add on to that. “Well, he’s not exactly a man yet, but you get the point. If you  _do_  ask him for a dance, Liz would think nothing of it. Keep in mind, you’re crushing on the second-biggest geek in the school, shortstack.”

“Stop calling me ‘shortstack’, ya tall-ass giant-”

“Anywho, she’d think nothing of it, and Peter would gladly oblige. Yes, you’re going to be relishing the feeling of his hand in yours and on your hip while he’s just trying not to act like a fool in front of someone whose opinion he values highly, but I digress.”

Satisfied with her spiel, Michelle nodded and leaned back to give Belle space to breathe. She walked in the class and took her spot in the middle of the class, with Belle following closely behind.

It was the day of homecoming, and to say that Belle was freaking out was an understatement, to say the least. She had already picked out a pair of shoes to match the dress Michelle bought her (at the last minute, so she was even more stressed out) and planned out everything, but her nerves were still shot.

“You know you’re freaking out over nothing. Right?” Michelle asked, popping a piece of gum into her mouth as she leaned against the doorframe of Belle’s brownstone house.

“Can I have one? Thanks. Yeah, but I can’t help it! You and I both know that I don’t do well in social settings,” she exclaimed, setting her skateboard down and pushing off.

“But you were at a dance before. Like, every single one ever since sixth grade.” She walked aside her at a leisurely pace and rolled her eyes.

“But never a formal one! What if I mess everything up? What if my dress doesn’t let me dance properly when a really energetic song comes on? What if I trip on one of the wires?!”

Michelle shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Just don’t care and carry on with your life. Honestly, you care too much about these lame dances, it’s the only time you actually care about how you look.”

“You know I care too much. Flash’ll probably be a dick and make fun of me while somehow linking my clumsiness to quote-unquote ‘Penis Parker”,” she retaliated, rolling her eyes at the pathetic and uncreative excuse of an insult.

“Hey.” Michelle looked down at her (even though the skateboard added two inches to Belle’s height, Michelle still had a good four inches on her regardless).

“Hm?”

“Do you think the punch will be spiked?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, oblivious to the fact that she only asked this to cut her off before she could spiral into a hole of self-doubt and back out of going to a dance that would no doubt make long-lasting memories, “knowing some of the kids,” (“some of the kids” meaning Flash) “probably. Why?”

“Just asking. I don’t really care to get drunk and make a fool of myself or make myself known at a lame dance.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

Michelle paused and shrugged a bit. “I mean, I  _don’t_  care.”

“Okay, sure Miss I’m-A-Brooding-Teenager-But-I-Dance-To- _Keep-It-Undercover,_ ” Belle laughed, pushing off again and readjusting her bookbag as they approached a crosswalk.

“Hey, that show is a classic!”

Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at the school. While many people that the two knew insisted that they take the bus, Michelle couldn’t be bothered to take it. Of course, a bus for multiple people is always better than taking a taxi, but carbon dioxide was carbon dioxide and it would just be better if she tried to keep it to a minimum. Belle just tagged along because she insisted she needed the exercise and the other kids on the bus hate her anyway, so what was the point if there was a better option.

Belle went off to start the early morning routine of dropping by the principal’s office to drop off her skateboard (something about him harping that it was a “safety hazard” if she just crammed it into her locker?) there while Michelle went to her own locker to unpack and pack up for the day.

The classes for today whizzed by faster than you could say “subway train,” and to be completely honest, Michelle didn’t mind. She and Belle had went home in their separate ways and agreed that Michelle would “pick her up” a.k.a., she’d show up to Belle house and both of them would be driven to homecoming by her mom.

She rang the doorbell and adjusted her dress, walking in with a bored smile and politely greeting the Trans. There were just so  _many_  straps on the shoulder area (they bought dresses for each other as a little game), it took her several minutes to figure out. Once they welcomed her into the house, Michelle waited in the living room and continued to adjust this one strap that was being stubborn. It was a nice shade of green though, kinda like the advertised color of green tea.

Belle walked down the stairs looking like a newborn giraffe with a sheepish smile. Her dress was just black with a few diamond-shaped cuts around her neck. It didn’t show any cleavage (much to Belle’s relief) and actually went up to her neck like one of those traditional Vietnamese dresses that she always used to insist on wearing to a dance. However, she wanted to wear heels so instead of being a staggering six inches shorter than Michelle, she was only three inches shorter.

_Psht, she’s the one that didn’t wanna wear converses,_  she thought with a chortle. Once Belle completed the treacherous journey down the stairs, Michelle held out the plastic box that usually contained a corsage. The look on Belle and her family’s face was almost priceless when they saw a single cookie instead. Her parents gave her weird looks that she basically shrugged off (in the most polite way possible of course).

“We’re not actually  _going_  with each other as dates. We’re going stag. Plus, it’ll help ease her nerves while we’re driving.”

“Why would she need to calm her nerves-”

“So, Ms. Jade, I believe that you’re our ride?” Michelle cut Belle’s dad off before he could inquire anything else.

_Besides_ , she figured to herself as they walked towards the door, ready to leave,  _nothing gives him the right to be this overprotective when he’s the only actual_ _threat_ , and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, but we need to take pictures!”

Michelle side-eyed Belle to see her dramatically rubbing her temples.

“Mom, it’s just a school dance, you do this every time!” she groaned—dramatically—and flopped onto the couch.

Nevertheless, her mom got the pictures she wanted and they went on their way.  

“I think that it was a good idea of you two to pick out dresses for each other. You both know what the other looks good in,” Ms. Jade said as she pulled out of the driveway.

“Thanks, y’know, your daughter is pretty hard to shop for. It’s hard to find her size in the stores I usually go to.”

Normally she hated small talk, but it was calming to engage in it with Ms. Jade. She was a chill person with a no-nonsense attitude and was really straightforward. They continued talking about stuff like how the nail salon was doing, Michelle’s plans for college, etc. while Belle nervously munched on the cookie—thanking Michelle’s foresight and humor—and interjected into the conversation at random points.

Soon enough, they arrived at the school.  Music was thrumming from the building like those stereotypical clubs from the movies as Michelle had to help Belle out of the car in her (actually relatively short compared to the “perky’” students that strutted around in stilettos on the daily) heels, shoving a pair of converses into the other’s purse (she brought a purse for once!) and saying that she would thank her later.

Once they walked in, Michelle made a beeline for the DJ booth to request a song, leaving Belle alone to awkwardly fend for herself against the crowd full of people. Michelle placed her request—a completely obscure song—and jogged back to her with a grin.  

“Are you just going to awkwardly stand there like a giraffe, or are you going to dance?”

“Pfft, in these heels? I’m lucky that I didn’t break my ankles yet-” She rolled her eyes and dragged her in the direction of the dance floor. “No wait, what are you doing?!”

“This is your favorite song, and I’ll be ding dang darned if I’m going to let you just stand there and wallow in insecurity and doubt for your first Homecoming.” she grabbed her purse and hid it away in a safe spot.

Belle, electing to ignore the fact that Michelle just said “ding dang darned,” sighed and looked at her skeptically, smiling a bit. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with Michelle? The Michelle I know scoffed at the very  _idea_ of dancing in public ever since fifth grade.”

“I was killed and abducted by aliens, this is the ghost of me talking to you-” she tsked and shook her head. “Just get your ass on the dance floor!”

And so they danced. Nothing too bad, really, just fooling around and singing really off key to most parts. Song requests were taken, as were pictures, and it was all around fun. Inevitably, Belle feet began to protest very loudly and so she decided to wear the converses and continue shortly after that.

Everything was great, Belle went around and offered to teach people to waltz crappily like she did every dance. For a few precious moments, memories were being made and there was no talk about bullies, or prissy bitche- bimbos. She meant bimbos. Ned finally arrived and they had fun, laughing their asses off as the music thrummed from the speakers. They just danced the night away and let themselves forget about stress.

Liz soon came in and they gladly welcomed her with whoops announcing her presence.

“Look who’s finally joining us!” Belle yelled over the music with a big grin.

“Yeah!” Liz yelled back, “Peter was taking a bit of a long time, so we were held up!”

Michelle snorted and smiled at Peter over their shoulders, winding up her middle finger like a Jack-in-the-box while grinning. She turned to Belle and muttered in her ear, “Speak of the so-called ‘hot stud’ and he shall appear, amiright?” Despite the punch to her shoulder, it was extremely satisfying to see her blush deeply as she directed her gaze to Peter.

Everyone in the small circle was vaguely aware of his fear-stricken face as he approached the group. Liz excused herself to go up to Peter and ask him what was wrong.

Belle knew that it’s bad to eavesdrop, and Michelle also knew that she hated to do so on her crushes (is it even fair to say “crushes” when she’s had the same crush for three years now?), but she was nevertheless. So of course, Michelle followed suit out of sheer curiosity.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” the poor guy was panicked and apologetic, the hell was going on?!

“What? Peter, what’s going on?”

“You deserve so much better, I… I gotta go.”

She perked her head up to see Peter just as he was running out the room. Liz came back looking confused. When asked what was wrong, she just shook it off and changed the subject. So the rest of the group also shook it off and danced.


End file.
